


Something wicked this way comes

by Divine_shot



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, BAMF Mycroft, BAMF Sherlock, Capcom's Darkstalkers, Crossover, Kidlock sort of, Mycroft is a good brother, Mycroft is based on Bearskin the fairy tale, Night warriors, Sherlock is B.B. Hood, Vampire savior, Werewolf John, Werewolf Lestrade, adding tags as I go, mini assassins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:43:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1792606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Divine_shot/pseuds/Divine_shot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Holmes go into the forest and run into two werewolves.</p><p>Capcom Darkstalkers/Vampire savior crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost in the woods

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on said fighting game. Sherlock is suppose to be similar to B.B. hood and Mycroft is loosely based on the Bearskin fairy tale. I have no idea why I wrote this. It just came to me out of nowhere.
> 
> I hope I don't offend anyone by mentioning Kallmann syndrome but its the only thing I could relative to what's wrong with the two brothers. I have no beta and this hasn't been brit pick. I'm continuing my effort to find one. Eventually.
> 
> I have no idea what pairings there will be if any. I'll change the tags as I go along.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock in question paused from working on his latest invention, a type of hybrid mechanical weapon cannon and pulled himself out from underneath using the wheel board he laid on.  tugged the goggles off from his face. Black curly strands fell into place over clear eyes, a mixture of dark green and blue, barely regarded the man in front of him. No,  _other teenager_.

He loved his lab, housed in the basement of the former Holmes mansion. His brother helped rigged it up years ago and Sherlock would often settle down here, even sleeping on cot rather than his own bed for time sensitive experiments. The teenager sneakily invading his most private space? Pure blasphemy. 

"Mycroft." He said his brother's name with an air of contempt. "What brings you down here? Another job?" Sherlock ranked his eyes up and down on the other male. "You haven't kept up your food schedule I see. I assumed despite having the body of a sixteen year old you would not succumb to gluttony."

Mycroft sighed and shifted the weight on his umbrella. He wore a white collared shirt, the sleeves rolled up and cuffed. Suspenders clipped to his pressed and clean knee length slacks as he crossed his leg over and regarded his brother, ginger hair slicked partly back and nose turned up. If it wasn't for his eyes and his constantly calculated features most people would mistake him for wayward teenager at first.

They still did.

"I see you insist on wearing children's clothing. Is that a sign dear brother?"

Sherlock pulled against the strap on his spandex swimsuit top as well as shorts. Sized and suited for a child Sherlock loathed it but couldn't find anything else on short notice. He only had on that as well as his long blue dress gown. He threw the goggles to the ground in a fit.

"I'm an almost thirty year old man trapped in a thirteen year old teenager's body! I learned to adopt to my unusual variation of Kallmann Syndrome curse so why don't you!"

Sherlock's parents were the normal lot of people; genius eccentrics whom remained in private for the majority of their lives. They had good standing in the world and more than enough to provide for two children but not horribly over extravagant. Sherlock assumed he had a 'normal' childhood within standards. He couldn't recall a lot of his childhood but he did remember the day when something went horribly wrong, leaving both men stuck in children's bodies and their parents dead.

Despite appearances the two aged horribly and slowly. Almost like a vampire Sherlock drawled out at the time.

The inheritance had been substantial and downright scary in terms of the publicity it gained. Distant relatives came out of the flood work like vultures; making Sherlock turn up his nose at the wake. His parent's bodies were not even in the ground long enough before they started to discuss the financial means.

Both Holmes were beyond the coming of age but on physical paper they were claimed to be barely legal due to a mishap in the government that not even Mycroft could change to his frustration.

A long lost uncle wanted to adopt them and most likely squander the money with the alcohol addiction that Sherlock picked up from the man's three o' clock shadow. The other relatives didn't fare much better and Sherlock loathed to associate with anyone of his external family. 

At least his brother was tolerable. Some of the time.

Mycroft being Mycroft somehow managed to get custody of both of them as well as all of the funding regardless. The older male had to put it in a trust fund until they 'came of age' which meant that they would have to figure out a means to convert to their proper body types eventually.

The only disadvantage is that the Holmes brothers had to do something in the mean time as a cover for funding. To avoid being bored in Sherlock's case.

Mycroft decide to work in the supernatural government section of the United Kingdom along with Sherlock as a hope in finding their parent's murders. 

"A minor position." He informed his younger brother. "A PA if you will." Mycroft restrained from shaking his head when Sherlock called him the 'Errand boy.' The younger male knew that Mycroft had a lot more power than he let on despite having the body of a sixteen year old. 

Mycroft refused to comment on what Sherlock said or even the fact that the younger brother had both of his arms folded, bottom lip out like the child he portrayed. "I believe I might have found a lead to our parent's murderer."

At this Sherlock perked up. "Really? Is it a human or a Darkstalker?" Darkstalkers were supernatural creatures linked to dark powers and magic in the world. Most humans couldn't go on par with them but Sherlock and Mycroft were special due to their abilities and being morally gray, closer in tune with the monsters than humanity.

"Sadly its a Darkstalker. A really old one at that. Charles Augustus Magnussen is a vampire that prays on just about everyone with no preference. Ironically his methods are unconventional; instead of seducing people he blackmails them."

Sherlock placed a hand near his mouth but Mycroft could see the smirk that the younger boy tried to contain. "Interesting. Well go get me that file Mycroft so we can be on our way!"

* * *

 

Mycroft loathed this part of his job but felt it necessary. He stood with his hands in his pockets, smoking a fag as he waited for his contact in the western part of London near a random street corner, smog everywhere. He would rather hide in the shadows than do actual legwork but him and Sherlock worked as a pair. The idea of his brother on his own made his nerves stand on end.

Sentiment.

He wore a long trench coat that housed a long lone umbrella on his back. That's all he really need besides the stakes, the silver bullets, as well as magical wards.

Sherlock stepped up next to him out of the fog, smoking himself. He had on a smaller but similar coat with a blue Belstaff scarf, collar turned up. "I assumed you were trying to quit?"

The boy shrugged. "I stop caring." Mycroft lift the cigarette from his lips and blew out a ring of smoke, staring at it dispassionately. "Mummy detested them but..." Sherlock nodded in understanding at the open ended sentence. The two brothers stood in mutual silence against the alleyway wall as they smoked.

The younger Holmes spotted the consultant and quickly put out his fag; knowing he would get more slack than his brother. People seemed to be distraught over a thirteen year old smoking rather than a sixteen year old.

Mycroft put his out as well and Sherlock tried not to grimace at how his whole personality suddenly changed. The transformation would amaze even the most idiotic person at how Mycroft's face contorted. His eyes lit up, a smile showing his dimples framed his face and he appeared to be innocent.

"A bitch in sheep's clothing." Sherlock snorted and Mycroft raised his hand to cough in it.

Sally Donovan, part of the Scotland yard and the go between with the British government and the high ranking chiefs. She seemed to be swayed by Mycroft's faux charm, even bringing him candy during her visits. Sherlock sadly couldn't fool the woman because he refused to play the part of the sapless child; deducing her adultery with another very married male.

"Hey there Mr. Holmes."

"Aunt Sally!" Sherlock _did_ make a face at that. "Do you have any news to give to the boss this time?" The 'boss' Anthea or Mycroft's actual PA as well as their so called caretaker. 

"Of course! I also brought for you little guy the biscuits you love!" She handed Mycroft a very expensive box of white chocolate biscuits. Mycroft's eyes sparkled and Sherlock tried not to comment at that realistic greedy gaze, much like a child.

"Are you sure you can deliver the files to your boss? I worry about a Darkstalker getting you."

Mycroft pouted, lower lip trembling and eyes widening. "I'm strong Aunt Sally. I have to do this for 'Lock after all." He gestured towards his brother, who hid behind him and glared at the officer. "He's the only thing I have left."

"Oh is Sherlock still being a little brat?" She cooed out and the man gave her a certain gesture in return.

"I see you're still sleeping with that married man by the deodorant I smell on you."

"'Lock!" Mycroft chastised him and Sherlock stuck out his tongue. Sally clicked her own tongue, shaking her head.

"Oh bugger off. You should be glad I don't spank you." She turned her attention towards the older Holmes. "Just remember to be careful Mr. Holmes with the files. I don't want you to run into a werewolf. I heard they've been seen near London."

"Of course. You too Aunt Sally." Mycroft rocked on his oxford heels, hands in his pockets as Sherlock continued to glare at the officer, who retreated back into the London fog.

Once she parted from their sights Mycroft went back to his normal, passive scowl and Sherlock gave her another one finger salute.

"Piss off. We are not children."

"So bloody tiring." Mycroft sighed, tearing into the biscuits box. He munched on them in half-hearted passion and walked away to prepare.

"Why do you bother?" Sherlock trotted up and along with his brother, stealing a biscuit to munch on. Mycroft twitched and tried not to smile at his brother eating it much like a chipmunk with his cheeks stuffed. "Such mundane people this lot is."

"I agree but the easier it is to manipulate them to our means Sherlock. I do all of this for you after all."

"I thought caring wasn't an advantage?"

Mycroft sighed at his own words. "Its not with the headaches you give me. Every time you open your mouth you set me back."

* * *

 

Sherlock shivered at the sound radiating against his body. Another bloody howl.

He clinched the cloak tighter around his body. He had on a simple red and black outfit; a black waistcoat over a red woven shirt with long black trousers. He resisted the urge to tug at his sock garters that hid small darts. At least he wore rugged combat boots for the terrain.

"Come on Sherlock. We are almost there." Mycroft huffed out. A similar outfit like his brother but instead with green and black hues. A bear skinned hoodie slung over his shoulders, making him look more like a wild child than a domesticated pomp official. His umbrella shifted in his holster as he held his hand out for his brother.

"I'm not afraid!" Sherlock grumbled out but took the offered hand. "I just wonder if your plan is going to work!"

"Most likely. Magnussen won't be fooled by our act but he would be interested in the two of us since his army is consisted of dull, absentminded vampires. It should be easy to go in and out."

Sherlock turned up his nose and continued to pace with his brother. A howl, much closer ran out which caused the younger Holmes to jolt and run towards his brother's back.

"My-"

"'Lock shhhh." Mycroft put a finger to his lips. "Observe."

The shadows contorted and blended. Sherlock saw eyes at first, glowing, then two shapes coming out of the woods, two _very large_ shapes. Fangs, sharp pointy fierce teeth showed themselves along with drool from a pulled back muzzle.

"A werewolf." Of course. Mycroft branched himself along with his brother.

"Two werewolves Mycroft."

"Always something."

"That's my line."

The werewolves came out into the dim moonlight. They were twice the size of the boys, packed with muscles and unrestrained power. The 'smaller' one had tan colored fur  
along with blue piercing eyes. A wound on its shoulder made Sherlock curious but he settled his scientific curiosity down.

The other one had silver fur that shone in the light, silk and delicate strains. Its fur bristled and seemed to be more on edge than the other one. 'An alpha wolf. Older but doesn't seem to be with a pack. Only the smaller wolf there. A mate, no its friend.'

Mycroft jutted out his lower lip and peered down in a submissive gaze. Sherlock sniffed and trembled behind his brother. Fear pheromones wafted through the air. The wolves seemed to back down but growled near them in trepidation.

"My Mr. wolf. What big eyes you have." Sherlock squeaked out.

"What big teeth. What shall we do 'Lock?"

The brothers seized the opportunity when the two beasts lowered their guards and jumped away from each other. Mycroft hit the smaller wolf with the weight of his foot. "Ugh." It felt like he was hitting a brick wall. The wolf growled and whimpered; the ginger Holmes springing off of the beast much like a board.

"Hiya!" Sherlock raised his small arms and hit the silver wolf on the head with a giant hammer. The material he used was a result of one of his experiments. Light enough for him to carry around but with enough vector force could cause damaged. The wolf howled and tried to swipe at the child, who barely avoided it and landed on its bicep.

" _AHHHHHHHH!_ " He screamed, going along with the centrifugal motion and letting go with a rolling landing.

"What's wrong Mr. Wolf? Hmph. Can't keep up?" Mycroft taunted, hitting the wolf using a hidden bag he had full of shells and explosives. He hated being on the field due to his stamina (not from the sweets) but he loved the hunt, the adrenaline, his nerves pumping with excitement. Catching the creature off guard once more, he tried to stab the beast with his umbrella to the ground. The teenager missed, the wolf faster than him, and a second later found himself being tackled to the ground.

"Dammit." He coughed as three hundred pounds settled on his body. The wolf growled, baring its fangs and going dangerous close. Mycroft, afraid it would aim for the juggler, tried to use his lanky legs to kick it straight in the crotch.

It barely winced and that only seemed to irate the beast more, biting into his shoulder-blade. 'It was worth a try.' He attempted to use his other arm to stab it in the eye, anything to get it off and away as its fang dug further into his flesh.

Mycroft watched as electricity raced through the beast, smoked fur invading his nostrils. He winced at the horrible sound the werewolf made as it fell to the side.

"Mycroft! Get yourself together you-" A silver blur tackled into the small child and sent him crashing into a tree.

"SHERLOCK!" Mycroft bellowed, hoping his brother wasn't gravely injured. He ignored his shoulder and pulled out a dagger from his pelt, stabbing it behind the smaller wolf. It howled and he climbed on its back. The beast attempted to scrap the teenager off but the Darkstalker hunter held on, piercing the soft skin under the fur with another magic laced silver dagger. Mycroft frowned and winced as the pain flooded from his shoulder when the werewolf shook like a dog, the laced daggers slowly working into the wolf's bloodstream before it fell over.

Sherlock swallowed the wave of nausea along with spit. He managed to go into the blow so besides aching muscles and pain nothing ended up being broken. Luckily. The child hunter ignored his blurred vision, gritting his teeth.

The gray wolf loomed near him and swiped down with its massive claws. Sherlock rolled just in time for a tree to be destroyed and pulled out from his cloak a small uzi. He shot at the beast, emptying out its shells before moving onto apple shaped bombs, throwing several of them and exploding the whole forest area.

Sherlock panted, wobbling on his smaller legs. 'Curse this small body.' The smoked pass and the wolf seemed to continue standing, looming over him. 'Bloody hell.' 

He would never admit to jumping up in shock when the beast fell over, revealing his brother. Mycroft sighed, twirling his umbrella leisurely. 

"Get to work Sherlock. We can tackle the castle another day."

The boy sneered, looking his proper age as he went to work bagging both werewolves. 

* * *

 

Sherlock restrained himself as he rocked on his heels. He donned casual wear after the hunt, wearing the same swimsuit spandex outfit along with his dressing gown.

He never caught a werewolf before. Such creatures were exclusive, despite being pack animals. Compared to the sea creatures and vampires they preferred to live in group solitary.  

Oh the experiments he could run! Nothing dangerous or mentally damaging though, maybe observation as well as data collecting before he turned them in. The boy peered into the double steeled cage with excited trepidation.

The small one seemed to shift and Sherlock got out his notebook, eyes filled with child like glee.

 


	2. Boom goes the house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp here's the next part. I have no idea where this is going.

John Watson got himself into several situations before but nothing of this sort.

He never asked to be a werewolf, let alone a Darkstalker. He discovered early on during his childhood in the orphanage that Harry and himself were not like the other children. They craved more meat than the average human, ran faster than most children, and changed during the moon's cycles.

John never knew his mother or his father. He could vague remember a woman holding him before she vanished but nothing outside of that. He ended up being adopted at eight, separated from his sister until high school, then developed bad relations with said sister when she estranged from her wife.

Outside of being a bloke with lycanthropy nothing happened to him. Until today.

John coughed, his whole body hurting in pain in various places he didn't even knew he had. He tried to get his bearings straight, wondering where in the hell the wolf lead him to today. 

The Wolf mumbled a reply and John resist the urge to roll his eyes. 'Typical.' The Darkstalker glanced around, surprised to see Lestrade next to him. The silver haired man joined his pack recently, still working the bearings of being a wolf and having a connection with John's father. John found out a great deal of his past such as the fact that his father vanished before he was born from Lestrade and they quickly became friends.

His nose, better than average, smelt around. 'Sterilization? A hospital? I think I can smell carbon and a few other noticeable chemicals.' John sat up in a crossed sitting position, hissing as his legs protested. 'Are we are Bart's? That can't be. No it has to be a lab.'

"Oh good you are awake!"

A small but boisterous voice rang through his sensitive ears, causing him to turn sharply towards it and his thoughts to streamline to a halt. Face to face on the other side of the 'cage' was a child.

"What the bloody hell?" John shook his head, thinking he was dreaming. 'Nope there's a child in a chair in front of me.'

The young man couldn't be no older than eleven, twelve at the most. Rich curls framed his cherub face behind intelligent observing gray eyes. He wore a spandex old fashion boy's swimsuit top and shorts under a too large lab coat. His feet were bare, toes sticking out of the lotus pose he held in the swivel cushion chair. Above all he appeared to be a child playing 'scientist' rather than his so called captor.

"The Canis Lupus can transform back into the Homo Sapien species at will! Jolly!" The boy pipped up in glee, observing him much like an experiment. "Tell me! Afghanistan or Iraq!"

John didn't know if he was confused at the fact that the boy knew his origins or the fact that he served in the war. "What? How in the world did you know-"

"I knew because I observed of course! I noticed it when me and my brother first ran into the both of you. Shoulder wound, a few years ago, discharged, hunter. It had to be silver laced bullets because it never healed, a normal one wouldn't left a scar on a werewolf. The only ones who would know such a thing would be the government or other werewolves. Since you served in the military under the government's jurisdiction and werewolves respect each other obviously a Darkstalker hunter sniped and tried to kill you in the military. For what reason are unknown but it could be radical and/or racial profiling." The boy spun around in the chair. "Dull and primitive."

"Amazing." This genius child knew who he was just by glancing at him? "Marvelous."

The boy stopped spinning. "Really?" His eyes lit up and John wondered about his age, guessing he could be younger.

"Yes really but why am I in a cage?"

"Observation and protection. My brother wants to turn you two in for money since werewolves are rare to find in the inner circles of Darkstalker hunting." 

"Wait you're a Darkstalker hunter?" John heard from the corner of his ear his friend Lestrade getting up.

The boy gave him a look. "Of course. How in the world did you think you got here?"

"Well I assumed your parents caught us and you sneaked down here to be curious?"

The boy sneered and jumped off of the chair. "I'm a grown man. You are my specimens." He began to pace away grumbling and John figured that was that. He went over to check up on Lestrade.

"Greg. Hey Greg." He lightly shook the man who held his head with a groan.

"Oh man it feels like a bus hit me. I'm never drinking again."

John wanted to laugh but this was serious. "We didn't get tossed this time Greg. Hunters caught us."

That brought the gray haired man alert and focused. "Bloody hell that's bad. Shite John do you remember who they were?"

"I-I'm not even sure to be honest." John gestured towards the pacing boy.

"You got to be kidding me. A kid took us down?" Greg shook his head and groaned at the persistent migraine developing.

"He said something about a brother so maybe it was him?" John shrugged but a voice told him, most likely the Wolf, that it was indeed this kid that took them down. God the thought of it made him embarrassed and relieved. He couldn't control the wolf, the beast inside of him going on instincts. He never killed a child before or even a human outside of the bad ones but he wouldn't count it to always be that way.

The boy stopped pacing and hit his fist into his palm suddenly. He then ran off to the far corner of the lab, working on something or another.

John decided to observe their 'cage.' It appeared to be as big as a small studio with a hopefully functioning toilet, a bunk bed, along with a small shower. The door itself not bars but a strange panel of glass with a key card lock.

"So let me get this straight." Lestrade sat next to John. "We ended up being captured, in wolf form, and now we're in some kid's science lab?"

John nodded his head, watching how the child put on a pair of goggles and gloves in the corner. "I'll work on a way to get us out of here."

"What about Harry or the other members of the pack?"

John sighed and pressed his back against the wall. "Me and Harry had a row so I haven't seen her lately. Clara isn't speaking to me and Molly I have no idea where she's at."

"Do you really think I'll let you get us out of here alone? I have your back mate once we figure out the mastermind."

John smiled, grateful to have at least one person on his side. "Ta."

* * *

 

"Hey don't you think you're too young to be doing that?"

Lestrade called out to the boy holding a blowtorch. John's doctor shouted warning bells at the fact of a small child using such a thing as well.

The boy gave them both a look and pulled down his goggles to wield whatever the hell he was wielding.

John threw his hands up. "That kid needs a spanking. Ignoring the both of us like that."

"Has he said a word since we've been down here?" Lestrade yawned. They already spent several hours doing nothing from his internal clock besides watching the strange kid do experiments.

"He talked to me for a tic but got offended because I mentioned his parents." Did they pass on? Maybe that's what triggered the boy's aloofness. 

A barking rang out and both men rose their head towards the noise.

"Redbeard!" The child turned off and put away the blowtorch; the barking growing louder. "That stupid Fatcroft! I told him fifty five and a half times to not let you down here when I'm doing experiments!"

The two wolves craned their necks and used their sight to see the boy talking to an Irish terrier, around four to five months old. The boy laughed and petted the dog as it licked him.

"FATCROFT!" The boy yelled up what John believed to be the staircase(?) and tried to hear a conversation, anything outside of the dog's barking. A leash appeared and the boy grumbled and vanished out of sight.

"Did you get a good look at the entrance?"

John grumbled, disgruntled. "No. I couldn't figure out if there was a door, stairs, or anything."

Lestrade sat in silence for a few minutes before replying again. "...What's a Fatcroft?"

"I have no idea."

* * *

 

"Do you eat other foods besides meat?"

"Yes but I prefer meat, especially when I'm in wolf form."

"Do you travel alone or in packs?"

"We normally travel in packs but I prefer to be alone because, well its a long story."

"Do you mate with other humans? Female, male, all that sort?"

"Wait what?" 

John paused at the turn of the conversation and stared at the child in front of him taking notes. He had on trousers along with a baggy shirt instead of the swimsuit outfit. Too big for his frame. Lestrade decided to sleep for a nip, leaving him with the problem child.

They have been here for almost a week from his internal clock. Another week or two would be a full moon and he hoped he wouldn't stay here that long. The boy fed them, made sure they were comfortable as a hostage wolf could be, and even brought down random magazines and medical books. Outside of the dog John and Lestrade noticing nothing that could give them a hint of their situation. John wanted to get the hell out of here already but it seemed difficult with the cameras he discovered along with the key pad access lock; rubbish with technology.

"Aren't you too young to be asking such a thing?"

The child frowned, nose turned up in a very older expression. "I'm thirty. Just because I never had sex and have this adolescent body-"

"Wait _thirty_?" John's eyes bulged out at that.

"Yes thirty. I'm cursed." The child nibbled on his bottom lip, on the edge of a reveal. "I-"

John put his hand on the panel and nodded his head, trying to encourage him. The boy's lip started to tremble, a genuine emotion, before he snapped out of it.

"Bah. What does it matter. Why should I be telling you such a stupid fact?" He hopped off of the chair and ran off to sulk.

John sighed and gave up. He decided to go over and take a nap himself.

* * *

"Is that kid a machine?"

John sat cross legged near the key-card door, hand in his face.

"No he's not Greg."

Greg joined him, staring at the lock more so than his friend. "You sure mate? I rarely see that brat sleep. All he does is work, work, and more work just like a machine."

"Trust me he's not. He must have emotions right?"

"Keeping us here like lab rats I think not."

John put his hands on his knees and rocked back and forth. "We only have a week before the full moon and I rather not have the Wolf out here in full control."

Lestrade nodded. "I agree but how the hell can we disable the cameras?"

John opened his mouth to answer when another voice rang out through the facility. Both men sat up and tried to see the newcomer.

"What are you doing here?"

A teenager with suspenders, ginger hair slicked back, a black woven shirt along with pressed shorts twirled an umbrella lazily. 

"The officials gave the ok for the two lycanthropes to be taken into custody."

"But I wanted to experiment on them more! It's a new breakthrough for the modern world! Do you know how rare it is to find a werewolf, let alone two?"

The teen sighed and balanced himself against the umbrella. The younger boy pouted and folded his arms. "You have to do the proper protocol and take it up with the officials."

" _You_ are the proper official! You know that Anderson is part of that team for the government! He mucks up everything!" The child stomp his foot. 

The teenager sighed and shook his head. Before he could comment the whole facility blacked out.

"Bloody hell!" The child screamed out.

John and Greg turned towards each other as the door clicked, beeped once, then opened up. "Jackpot!" They were both out before they could say Moon Pie.

"Backup Generator X6780! Brother follow them! Shoo!"

John used his nose and his senses to get out, feeling Greg behind him as they rushed past the two children and what appeared to be a shift and stairs. They took the latter and ripped open the door before hissing at the brightness of light.

"What the hell is this a mansion?" Carpet velvet floors and long narrow hallways appeared before him. Various paintings of unknown history lined the walls along with the occasional table; reddish prime wood. Above all it looked posh and not the place that Lestrade nor John imaged they would be. "This must be their home then."

"No time to be sight seeing now Greg come on!" The two werewolves ran, going down random hallways. John ducked as a missile barely hit him, exploding the wall in front of him, concrete flying.

"Wha-" A boot to the face came after and John ended up tumbling down another hall, rolling until he crashed into a wall. 

'Thank God I'm not human. Only time I'm grateful for being a werewolf.' John winced and tried to stand up, brushing off the debris from his shoulders, a giant crater behind him. He had better stamina and healing properties than the normal bloke but not as good as his Wolf form.

"I'm afraid I can't let you part." The teenager from early paced towards him, gun in one hand and umbrella in another.

"Mycroft!" A small voice near him rang out.

"Not now Sherlock you can handle the other wolf by yourself for now." The teenager named Mycroft clicked off the safety, never leaving his sights off the wolf.

"MYCROFT! I believe this is a more dire situation than what you are dealing with now."

The teenager huffed until an explosion ignited behind him. John took that chance to leap forward, using the smoke as cover but without feeling a shot rang out and gaze his arm. He grunted and ignored it, colliding with the teenager as a result.

The tussled and rolled, the shorter teenager trying to use his umbrella to pin the wolf down, the gun lost somewhere in the shuffle. They bumped next to Sherlock and a gasping Lestrade.

"Ummm mate? I think you better stop."

Both men glared then glanced up at the person hovering above them.

"Oh hell." John couldn't believe it. Floating above the four of them was none other than Molly.

 


End file.
